


you can fly, you can fly, you can fly

by anthonvstrk (theravvenstag)



Series: think of the happiest of things [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Korean Keith (Voltron), Temporary Character Death, Texan Keith (Voltron), Ward of the State Keith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-22
Updated: 2016-09-22
Packaged: 2018-08-16 18:32:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8112895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theravvenstag/pseuds/anthonvstrk
Summary: When Keith looks at the stars he sees a something more. A hope. Somewhere beyond what he'd forged out here, easier and safer.
    The matron told him stars were dreams, and dreams had people, so stars were people. It was okay if they weren't the same kind of people Keith was - because Joey said stars were huge and made of gas - and he was okay if they couldn't talk. He was okay if they couldn't play baseball or soccer like the other boys. If they didn't watch TV, or read books. Keith thought he could live with silence as long as he had friends. So when he reached up and imagined touching the stars, he knew he would be okay if only the stars reached back.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ilgaksu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilgaksu/gifts).



> I am in no way happy for with this fic, but if I don't post it I never will.
> 
> Basically, stuff _happens_ in this fic, but it's really more of a prequel to my main idea so don't worry if you finish. Keith's story is far from over. 
> 
> This is unbeat'd, but if you'd like to read my how and shout suggestions to make it better just hmu.
> 
> I won't go too much into my future plans for this series, because that'd be boring and also ruin the suspence, so I'll just say I hope you enjoy and please leave a comment if you do, 
> 
> Kiran xx

In another world Keith fights battles, touches the stars, and dies a hero. He lives fast and dies old, with a smile on his face and a story on his lips for all the people who came to watch him go.

He is a legend and man. Humble and great. 

He is happy.

In this one, he dies in the back of a van speeding through the Arizona desert. It’s five hours before someone checks for a pulse.

***

I want to fly.

That’s what Keith told them when they asked. No reason or explanation. Just a simple little wish.

When Keith saw the sky, he saw the impenetrable night scattered with thousands of burning stars, and like any child he opened his arms. Because the night was a friend. And if he could open his arms wide enough, reach high enough, it might be able to hug back.

 _In space no-one can hear you scream_ , the older boys whispered.

The whispers followed Keith around, basking in his silence. Despite the taunts and he stayed just that, silent. When Johnny twisted his arm behind his back he only teared up after he got a plaster. The next time Tom stamped on his foot he did even better and didn’t cry out. Keith could keep quiet because it meant he was a good boy. Of all the things he wanted the biggest dream was to be good and happy.

***

By the time he’s nine he uses the ‘better out than in’ approach to most things.

He decides to earn his labels. Disruptive, disorderly, discomforting, surround him like a mantra as he punches his way from home to home. He stumbles across state line like a bad stench, infecting the air wherever he wonders. The blood on his knuckles makes him a risk, but the skin off his back makes him a target, and Keith spends every moment he’s not taken advantage of again.

He fights the urge to write ‘L.O.S.T. B.O.Y.’ across his knuckles, the promise not as sharp in permanent marker. He sneers when asked to join in and cracks his knuckles when asked what’s wrong. His shouts become roars, whipping up a frenzy of fear between other boys and him.

It’s a shame, he thinks as crumples another Chad’s snotty nose, if boys weren’t such assholes he’d probably rather like them.

 _Behavioural problems_ , is written across his file in bright red ink.

***

Someone in the back is signing Annie. They sing as if Tomorrow is crawling up their neck, like a funeral march, only to die on the shitty linoleum sheet. 

“Shut up.” Keith moans. He’s half delirious already, the constant rattling of the van slipping its way into his skull.

“Gotta keep our spirits up.” The kid rasps. 

He doesn’t sound like he’s from Texas. He doesn't sound like anyone down south. Keith wonders how long the kid’s been travelling, how long he's been singing old show tunes to strave off the sound of rot over the long nights. From the racked coughs that follows he thinks it’s been a while.

When the coughing stops there’s a long pause where only the sound of the engine and a dozen or so laboured breaths can be heard. It's a new kind of stillness, of unreality in the dark, cramped space. The heat is oppressive. The scene is so different from the sparkling, quiet nights of his youth Keith wants it to shatter.

The van jerks again and Keith presses his face closer to the floor, “I prefered Disney.” He whispers.

He hears a weak chuckle as his vision starts to go dark. _Think of the happiest of things, it’s the same as having wings_ , are the words that follow him into blissful unconsciousness. 

***

Keith is seventeen, rucksack ready, when Charles shows up. He’s all rough hands and soft smiles. He tells Keith that he’s a special kid. That he deserves better than this.

Keith tells him he’s crazy. Charles just laughs.

Sunswept and wind kissed he looks like he’s just rolled out of an Arizona travel ad. The callouses on his hands cut when he tells Keith he’s a writer. He’s a wanderer. He lost his brother a couple of years back and he’s felt lonely ever since.

Charles is something like a father and something like a brother. The kind of man a boy could fall in love with if he didn’t have with wits about him. Fortunately Keith’s always had his head on straight, even if his heart is riddled with knots.

***

When Keith looks at the stars he sees a something more. A hope. Somewhere beyond what he'd forged out here, easier and safer.

The matron told him stars were dreams, and dreams had people, so stars were people. It was okay if they weren't the same kind of people Keith was - because Joey said stars were huge and made of gas - and he was okay if they couldn't talk. He was okay if they couldn't play baseball or soccer like the other boys. If they didn't watch TV, or read books. Keith thought he could live with silence as long as he had friends. So when he reached up and imagined touching the stars, he knew he would be okay if only the stars reached back.

***

In tenth grade he counts up the quarters in his pocket and the F’s on his report card, and realises he's never going to be an astronaut.

He crumples the paper and starts looking at the ground instead.

***

Keith is nine when he starts to scream.

The noise is like a choir. Furious archangels passing judgement on all of those that sin. But the archangels fell, and Keith feels like he’s burning through the atmosphere every time he tries to sing. He screams and screams, until the fires die to embers and he’s left with a scorched throat and a new batch of bruises.

He simmers.

And he does it again.

Words like ‘devil’ and ‘psycho’ get tossed around, but Keith knows what he really is. He’s a boy without a family. Like a stray without a name. He’s nothing and no-one, and anyone who tells him otherwise is a liar or insane. But Keith knows what it is to try.

So he screams out to the world and the tumultuous desert. To the dunes and all the vultures like the sand is screaming back. Like someone there is listening. Like he’s not just another number on a page waiting to be spit out into the world with a rucksack and a bad attitude.

When his throat is hoarse and the sun goes down he bottles up his rage again. A conservation of energy.

Instead he whispers. The words are swallowed up by the wind, drifting over the landscape. They’re soft, and quiet, and everything Keith can’t let himself be anymore. But he’s sure the stars can hear him. _Wait for me_ , he tells them, _I’ll find a way to get to you. Wait._

***

It takes him two weeks to realise its a scam. The clothes he’s wearing are a bit to thin. The food he’s eating it a bit too processed, even on a writer's budget. The door doesn’t lock and fridge is empty and the sneaking feeling in Keith’s gut has nothing to do with tinned soup he ate the night before.

Two days later a van pulls up outside.

Charles grins with open arms as he shoves Keith into the back with the other boys.

***

Old children’s tunes float softly out of a radio tuned to a country station. The windows rattle as Keith blacks out again. Second star to the right and straight on until morning. 

The blue glow he sees as his heart stops beating looks nothing like starlight.

_(Happy thoughts.)_

He walks towards it anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, Keith is dead.


End file.
